Make You Mine by K.T. Quinn
52
Jayce
We soared down the road as fast as I dared, away from one danger and toward another. Charlotte clung to my body as if I could provide her safety.
I’m the one putting her in danger, now.
I shouldn’t have been chasing Sid. Charlotte was right: I did have something to live for, something which filled me with more hope than I’d ever known. She was on the back of my bike, putting her own life at risk to try to convince me not to save myself.
But I knew we could never be together if Sid lived. That man had killed my sister. The hate I felt for him had grown like an infection, rotting me away from the inside. If I skipped this opportunity to get revenge, I would regret it for the rest of my life. I would resent Charlotte for keeping me from it.
I didn’t want to have that between us. It would doom us from the start.
I twisted the throttle with my right arm, which sent pain shooting up my shoulder. I wasn’t bleeding as much as I had been, but the rush of the bike was making me dizzy. Distantly, I knew that was probably the lack of blood.
Distantly, I don’t give a fuck.
I caught up to Sid while he was on the frontage road next to the interstate, the same one Charlotte and I had cleaned on our first few days of community service. He didn’t notice that we were following him. I reached down with my right arm and pulled the shotgun off its holster next to my leg. Steadying the gun across my handlebars made my bad shoulder feel like it was on fire, but I needed my good arm to maneuver the bike.
Before I could shoot, he glanced back and saw us. I fired, a sound so loud it was like stuffing cotton into my ears, but Sid swerved out of the way right as I pulled the trigger. The recoil was like a mule kick of agony in my shoulder, and I nearly dropped the shotgun. Sid drifted back the other way and I squeezed the trigger again, crying out with pain as the gun bucked in my grasp. But this shot was even less steady than the first, and Sid remained untouched.
“You’re hurting yourself!” Charlotte shouted over the engine roar.
Sid twisted in his saddle, aiming a pistol at us. In my haste to grab the handlebars, I dropped the shotgun. Sid fired blindly while he rode, a hand extended behind him without looking, and although none of the shots came close to hitting me, I slowed down and swerved anyway.
He’s gonna get on the interstate, I thought. He would probably lose us if he did.
I reached back to retrieve the sheriff’s pistol from my belt, which was so painful that my vision went dark around the edges and I nearly passed out. When I recovered, I aimed the gun and fired frantically, hoping to land a blow before Sid escaped, but shooting from a bike was practically impossible. I spent all six rounds without hitting him, then tossed the gun aside and cursed to myself.
The interstate on-ramp appeared, but Sid didn’t take it. He veered right, then turned down the next road heading back in the direction of Eastland. He must think he can still rally the other Copperheads. Hopefully by now they were all captured, or dead.
I hoped my old friend Brick was one of the former, and not the latter.
Sid’s Harley struggled on the winding dirt road, but my Indian Scout was made for this kind of terrain. I kept pace with Sid easily through the turns in the woods. I was afraid he had another gun and was waiting for us to get close before shooting, so I kept a respectable distance. Enough to keep him within sight.
I’m coming, I thought while staring at the skull logo on the back of his jacket. I’m coming for you, motherfucker.
I didn’t realize what road we were on until it abruptly opened up into a gravel clearing. Sid wasn’t expecting the wide stone wall to block his path, and he made a hard left turn to avoid it, but it was too sharp and his tires slid out in the gravel. The bike hit the ground and spun, hitting the stone wall with enough force to send pieces of metal flying.
I slowed my bike to a stop a safe distance away. “Stay here,” I said over my shoulder.
“Do you want me to call the police?” Charlotte asked.
“I don’t want the cops to witness what I’m about to do.”
I approached the leader of the Copperheads in a quick walk, hesitating just enough to dart away if he came up shooting. Sid pushed the bike off himself and staggered to his feet. The left side of his face was scraped bloody with gravel, and he was cradling his left arm against his body. But he had no weapon except the crowbar strapped to his back, which he grabbed and pointed at me.
I’ve waited a long time for this, I thought.
“Stay back, Jayce,” Sid said with the same cocky smile he usually wore. Like he had the advantage right now. “I’ll break your fucking skull.”
“You can try,” I growled as I approached. Sid continued backing up, moving toward the gate at the edge of the stone wall.
The gate to the rear entrance of the Eastland cemetery.
“How’s about we make a deal?” Sid said. “You walk away, and I won’t kill your girlfriend over there.”
Blood covered his teeth, turning his sneer into a gruesome sight. But there was an edge to his voice I’d never heard. He was afraid.
Good, I thought.
I backed him into the cemetery, still keeping my distance. “You’re not in a position to kill anyone.”
He glanced behind him as he walked, occasionally swinging the crowbar through the air to make sure I wouldn’t get closer. “Oh, I don’t know. I’ve got lots of friends who owe me favors. I’m sure one of them wouldn’t mind bashing that pretty little thing’s skull in. Hell, I bet I can find someone who’d enjoy it.”
He was trying to goad me into making a mistake. Based on the rage that filled my chest, it was working. Now that we were here, now that I had the opportunity to do what I had been fantasizing about for so long, it was difficult not to sprint straight at Sid. I was dizzy from the loss of blood and twitchy from the adrenaline coursing through my veins.
We moved deeper into the cemetery.
“Give up, Sid,” I said. “Toss down the crowbar and I’ll make your death quick.”
“Got a buddy from California named Ume,” Sid said wistfully. “Japanese guy. Real sicko when it comes to killing people. Especially women.”
“Shut up,” I growled as we moved between the gravestones.
Sid smirked. “He’d probably bash her skull in, then fuck the hole.”
I was like a bull enraged by a matador; I couldn’t stop myself from charging forward. I knew it was what he wanted, but my love for Charlotte and the fundamental desire to protect her forced me to attack. I lowered my head to tackle him, but he twisted and swung the crowbar into my injured shoulder. I fell to the ground with a cry, fire spreading up my arm and then instantly going numb. I threw myself sideways into a roll instinctively, and felt the rush of wind as the crowbar hissed through the air where my head had just been, thudding into the cemetery soil.
“You hit like a little boy,” I said as I regained my feet a short distance away. I circled Sid again, waiting for my chance. “Hit like a little boy, talk like a little boy, think like a little boy. It’s no wonder your shitty fucking gang got busted.”
“A gang you were part of!” he shot back.
“Leaving was the best decision I ever made.”
Sid’s laugh was high-pitched and giddy. “I’ll bet it was. I’m sure Theresa would say the—”
I faked a charge again, and he was ready for it with another swing of the crowbar. This time it was a glancing blow against my shoulder while I twisted away, which still stung like fucking hell.
“That was her name, right?” Sid said. “It’s tough to keep track of all the annoying cunts I’ve killed.”
I darted in and out again, taking another soft blow against the hip. Then a second strike against the side of my shin, sending white hot pain from my toes to my knee. I stumbled but kept the pressure on. Getting hit like this was worth it to figure out Sid’s timing. He was on the defensive, and predictable.
I pulled back my fist as if to dart in and swing, but instead I threw myself down and into a roll. The crowbar swung through open air and I punched the side of Sid’s knee. He buckled, and I grabbed the wrist holding the crowbar and twisted until I heard something crunch.
Sid cried out, and the crowbar thudded to the ground.
As I tried to move into my next attack, Sid smashed his knee up into my jaw. My teeth clicked together so hard that I would’ve bit my tongue off if it had been in the wrong place. For a moment my vision spun, and Sid tackled me like a two-hundred-pound sack of grain swinging from a rope. I fumbled with my one good arm, while he did the same with his, as we rolled across the cemetery trying to get the advantage over the other.
Somehow I ended up on my belly with Sid on my back, digging his knee into the back of my neck. He grabbed a handful of my hair and shoved my face into the dirt.
“Time to die, Jayce,” Sid said through gritted teeth. “Time. To. Die.”
The soft ground gave way for my face, molding to it and filling my mouth and nose. I tasted earth as I struggled and bucked to get him off of me, but it was tough with only one good arm. Loose dirt filled my lungs with each gasping breath, slowly suffocating me.
I will not die like this.
With a roar I bucked my legs, throwing him off me. His head hit one of the gravestones, giving me the time I needed to straddle his body and stare down at his hideous face. A face I’d dreamed of pummeling.
I started punching and didn’t stop. His face was like clay beneath my fist, and I was an artist working on his masterpiece. Sid’s nose broke on my fourth punch, gushing blood down his mouth and chin. Throughout it all he laughed, laughing at my anger and pain, laughing at everything he’d done to me.
I wanted to grab his head with both hands and smash it against the gravestone, to finally kill him. His laughter almost made me do it.
Then I saw the gravestone next to his head.
Theresa Alexandra Hawkins
Born: March 1, 1994
Died: March 19, 2021
My parents’ grave was next to hers, side-by-side in the daylight. The two gravestones seemed like they were judging me. Watching to see what kind of man I’d become.
I was filled to the brim with fury. I had to let it out, to channel my wrath into the man who had taken everything from me. I craved it more than any drug.
But the gravestones stopped me. I was on the edge of jumping over the cliff, so close to murdering this man, but I couldn’t do it here. Not in front of them.
And if I couldn’t do it here, I couldn’t do it anywhere.
The rage nearly overwhelmed me, but then it receded.
Sid’s laughter bubbled up from his bloody face. “What’s. The. Matter?” he struggled to say. “Too. Pussy. To. Kill. Me?”
I gave him one last backhanded punch for good measure, then wiped my bloody fist on his shirt. “Too much of a man to kill you.”
Sid laughed like that was the funniest joke in the world, but he was too defeated to do anything else.
My right arm still stung, but I managed to hold the crowbar in it while dragging Sid across the cemetery with my other arm. We passed through the gate and into the parking lot, where Charlotte was still waiting on my bike.
“Oh thank God!” she cried, sprinting forward to hug me. Fire flared up from my gunshot wound, but the sweetness of her embrace was stronger than the pain in my shoulder. I held her close and put my nose in her dark hair so I could smell her scent. Anything to remove the stink of Sid from my nostrils.
She kissed me, then licked her lips. “You taste like dirt.”
“I bet I do.”
She gestured at Sid, who was laying on his back with his eyes closed. “You didn’t kill him?”
“No,” I said. The revelation was part satisfaction, part disappointment. Like the last bite of a chocolate cake before looking at an empty plate. “But he almost killed me. I’ve gotta admit, Peaches. I was hoping you’d come charging in there to help me.”
Her eyes widened with outrage. “You told me to wait here!”
“Since when do you listen to what I tell you?”
“Since now.” She shrugged. “Plus, it was good advice. If I went in there with you, he could have grabbed me and used me against you. If I’ve learned one thing in my time in Eastland, it’s that I don’t want to be the leverage someone uses to hurt you.”
I held her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. “We’ll never have to worry about that again, Peaches.”
Right as I said that, police sirens drifted through the woods toward us. Not from the back road we’d just used to enter the cemetery, but from the main road coming from the diner. I arched an eyebrow as they drew near.
“Okay, so I only listened to most of what you told me,” Charlotte admitted.
I pulled her back into a one-armed embrace. “I forgive you, Peaches. But just this once.”
We held each other close as the police arrived.
